Healing Powers
by theangelgabrielle
Summary: The untold story of Chris Plovert and the girls who tried to nurse him back to health. Set halfway through IotBS. Chris/Various. K plus for cursing, kissing.


**disclaimed, as always. **

**_some strong language._ **

**-h e a l i n g-**

_p o w e r s;_

_--_

intro

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February, with all its awkward first kisses, crappy-tasting candy hearts, and harsh winds was finally coming to a close. Chris Plovert yanked at his heather grey DC beanie, making sure his pink ears and shaggy, russet-coloured hair was hidden from the general public. He ambled out of Briarwood Academy, on crutches. He was such a stupid, _stupid _bastard. Twisting his ankle? Skateboarding? In a pile of first-snow snow? God. He should just get 'IDIOT: CAUTION' tattooed on his forehead for all eternity. _No scratch that. _To do that, he'd have to take off his hat and the cold mid-winter air just wasn't welcoming enough for that.

Chris' gloved fingers inched around his own neck, tugging on the stiff, poppy red tie that was Briarwood's signature. All around him, too-cool guys in knee-bearing shorts and rolled-up grey blazers snickered and rolled snowballs with bare hands. Were they insane? Had they gotten so cold that all their joints had gone numb, so they couldn't feel a thing? There was no other logical explanation for their behaviour, except -

"Plovvy." Derrick Harrington grinned from ear-to-ear, slapping a hand on Chris' left shoulder. "Nice of you to wait up for me, asshole."

"Yeah, well." Chris swivelled his head to the side and gave the arrogant blonde a hard look. "It's fricking freezing out here."

The two boys were soon joined by Derrick's omnipresent troupe of cult-like followers. And he was mocked the Pretty Committee? At least they had hotness going for them. Derrick? Well, his guy-stalkers were just _too freaky. _

A snowflake twirled gracefully from the sky, settling on Chris' eyelashes. He wrinkled his nose - it felt weird. Derrick prattled on about how effed-up and yet surprisingly hot his substitute teacher was, while Cam angsted, his white earbuds firmly in place, and Kemp toyed with his Motorola Razr, snapping photos of girls kissing their Briarwood-attending boyfriends and then cropping the boys' heads out of the photos. Chris wondered if Kemp was planning on Photoshopping his own face in, 'cause that was too creepy. Even for Kemp Hurley.

"So," Kemp finally said to a hands-stuffed-in-pockets Derrick, "you and Massie?" He wiggled his eyebrows, finally putting away his onyx black phone with a defining snap. The bushy-haired 'hottie' (Chris couldn't see why any girl would want him; he had that greasy Italian mobster thing going on) kept ploughing on, kicking up piles of fresh winter snow with his printed Vans.

"Yeah?" Derrick smirked, half-heartedly punching the perv on his shoulder. "What about us?"

"So you're admitting there's an 'us?'" Kemp's smile was vaguely pedophile-ish, and the conversation was going nowhere, so Chris did as Cam did and dug through his filled pockets for his iPod Nano Video. One by one, he stuck the customized Sony earbuds into his notoriously Dumbo-esque ears, tuning out the resounding choruses of 'Dude' and 'She's so hot.'

To the hypnotic beat of Kevin Rudolf's "_Let It Rock,_" Chris trudged down the idyllic roads of McMansions and illustrious, straight-from-_The Stepford Wives c_ul-de-sacs. The houses had white picket fences (_seriously_; he wasn't kidding, for once) and the trophy wives wore their strawberry blond-highlighted hair up, pearls against pale necks.

When he reached his street, Chris smoothly turned, barely nodding a goodbye to his loud, obnoxious friends. Cam's mom had met the boys halfway there and picked her son up early. This, of course, causing another round of arm-punches and catcalls. The truth was they were just jealous. Emily Fisher was a laidback, floppy ponytail and Old Navy pullover kind of girl. Derrick's parents were divorced, he hadn't seen his mom in ages and Kemp's mom was BFF with Kendra Block (that said it all.) Chris' mom was one of the Weschessies, too, but a little more zoned-out because of her twice-daily Xanax prescription.

That was when Chris Alexander Plovert, doctor-given crutches and all, crumpled to the ground helpessly, after tripping on the sidewalk's dangerous curb.

_Great. Just. Great. _

_"Because when I arrive, I, I bring the fire; make you come alive, I can take you higher..."_

**a/n: _if that was totally insane and nonsensical - _**things will get better for you, if you stick around for the next chapter, at least. Let's see how our favourite girls 'nurse' Chris back to health. Pure fluff.

Which girl would you like to see first?

* * *


End file.
